


constant conversations

by rexflame



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexflame/pseuds/rexflame
Summary: faelle and avel have a mission.it would be easier if avel would stop dragging his feet.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	constant conversations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stuntbook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuntbook/gifts).



“What’s so interestin’ to you, birdy?” 

Faelle has been making it her business to ignore Avel’s snide commentary - he’d seemed uninterested in helping her on the mission from the start, which, quite frankly, was plenty fine with her. Crouched before a clump of grass, she balances a worn-out book on her forearm, focusing more on the rustle of pages than on Avel. Her tail lashes in response, though, an involunary rise. As she tilts her head back, a comment dying on her tongue, she’s surprised to see Avel peering over her shoulder with a curious look. 

“It’s the plants we need -”

Faelle doesn’t make it through her sentence before some Foeler Grass catches her eye - she bounces to her feet, a smile creeping onto her face despite the stormcloud that’s Avel’s air of irritation. The sun shines down, casting beams of light across the pages that had nearly fallen from her hands in her rush to move. Avel chuckles, striding languidly after her.

“See, if ya want me to help, I gotta see what we’re lookin’ for.” 

Faelle turns to face him properly, then, all but shoving the book into his face, the smile having turned into a big grin - it suits her face more, the lighthearted look, and Avel touches the page gently, as if he’s afraid the book will fall into dust beneath his fingertips. For a moment, his face falls into an ‘o’ of surprise, haughtiness dispelled and regained in the blink of an eye. Faelle tilts her head, the motion birdlike and jaunty, and he pulls his hand away as though he’d been burned.

“Tch. This is annoyin’ busywork.”

“It matters,” Faelle says simply, folding the book under her arm and crouching back down, her voice still light, shifting onto the balls of her feet - Avel watches her, the chaos of her actions transformed into a gentle touch as she picks some of the grass.

“We’re helping people, see?” 

Avel sighs - more of a snort, really - the tone derisive, caught in his throat. He can’t help but soften some, though, at the determination that Faelle carries, the sincerity of her actions. 

(He’s impressed, really, that he hasn’t been able to work his way under her skin - he would’ve thought at least one insult would stick.)

“Yeah, sure. Show me that again?”

There's a flicker of surprise - he can see it, in the way her tail flicks as she straightens, boundless energy radiating from her. Avel gives a little smirk as her wide eyes blink, folding his arms nonchalantly in response.

"If I can help, we'll be done faster, birdy. Don't get too excited."

Still, Faelle seems happy - is happy, as if there's light around her. Avel finds it hard to look at her, nearly blinding in that energy - he feels shadowed by it, unable to stand too close. And what stupid poetry that is.

"Soooo - here!" Faelle opens the book, pointing to a worn-out page, and Avel returns to peering menacingly over her shoulder, resigned to his role of student for the day.

(He finds it isn't as bad as he'd expect - this helping people, this warmth.)


End file.
